


i'll love you more (so don't be scared)

by ednae



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, mentions of trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 15:23:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12171570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ednae/pseuds/ednae
Summary: sometimes, in the silence of the simulated night, shiro thinks.





	i'll love you more (so don't be scared)

**Author's Note:**

> reblog [here](https://stellunaria.tumblr.com/post/165666861702/shlav-week-day-7-free-day-sometimes-in-the)!
> 
> written for day 7 of shlav week!

Sometimes, in the silence of the simulated night, Shiro thinks.  And with no one around to stop him, to draw his attentions away from the horrors that lie within him, he falls into the deep abyss of memories and pain that he wants so desperately to forget.  But no matter how hard he tries, no matter his attempts at distracting himself, he always ends up thinking.

His thoughts are jagged and sharp, piercing his mind as it tries to escape, to leave behind the fears and doubts and anguish and the hollow shell of a prisoner-turned-soldier.

His thoughts are racing, never touching on one memory for too long before it shifts to another, more painful one, always spiraling into something more horrific, more engulfing, until he’s not sure where he is.

Is he in the castleship, safe in the darkness of his room?  Or is he back in the arena, howling from the pain of a gash across his face, skin flapping in the breeze as dust and dirt mix with salty tears?

Sometimes, in the silence of the night, Shiro can still hear his screams.

But sometimes is not this time.  He thinks, he remembers, he struggles against the pull of the murky black waves forcing him under.  He hears the sparks of magic wear him down.  He smells burning flesh.  He feels the pain, as fresh as it was the first time.

And then he’s jerked back into the present with a soft nudge.  He’s on the floor, leaning back against his bed.  The spread is awry, pillows askew and blankets wadded at the foot.  Soft lights dance around him, giving the room a dim, blue glow.

Shiro looks up and up to find a gray form, long and cylindrical, with protrusions here and there.  One such protrusion pokes at his shoulder.

“I thought you would be asleep,” mumbles a small, sleepy tenor as Slav leans down into Shiro’s field of vision, “but I’m rather surprised.”

“I guess your calculations were wrong,” Shiro responds.  His voice is shakier than he had wanted, but it’s too late to take it back.  Slav already knows.

“You alone manage to defy my statistics.”  It comes off not unkind, but brisk.  “It’s hard to predict the best course of action when it comes to you.”

“I’m just a wild card,” Shiro jokes, but he still sounds so weak.  Slav, however, appears to pay no attention to this as he crawls onto his messy bed, his head and one set of arms hanging off the side.  Shiro takes this as a cue to lean his head back, and he’s met with Slav’s soft body for a pillow.

“Nonetheless, you being awake is far more advantageous than you being asleep,” the Bytor continues, shoving a notebook in Shiro’s face.  “I wanted to share some schematics and probabilities with you.  Using these outlines will boost your survival rates by almost forty-two percent.  Forty-six, in some realities.”

Shiro sighs, but he can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Slav,” he says gently.  He pushes the notebook away, and Slav lets it land unceremoniously on the metal flooring of the ship.  The quiet thud reverberates through the room, and Shiro waits for it to die out completely.

“Shiro, these plans and inventions will–”

“Slav.”  He’s more forceful this time, and it successfully cuts Slav off.  “You don’t have to do this.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then Slav nearly whispers, “Do what?”

“You’ve been more than enough help for me,” Shiro says, grabbing Slav’s now empty hand.  He feels the limb tense beneath his.  “Just being here helped a lot.”

“I…” Slav starts, but he seems at a loss for words for once.  “That’s good.  Your peace of mind is essential for Voltron’s victory.”

Shiro continues as if he’d never spoken.  “But I’m also here for you.  You don’t have to carry this burden by yourself, you know.”

“I assure you, I am not,” Slav protests, a little harrumph in his tone as he pushes off the accusations.

“You’re allowed to rest,” Shiro says, a quirked eyebrow the only indication he gives that he acknowledged Slav at all. “I’m here for you, too.”

Through the dim light of his bedroom, he sees Slav glancing between him and the notebook, left almost forgotten on the floor next to them. “It’s not easy,” he says finally. “The numbers don’t add up.”

“Feelings aren’t numbers,” Shiro asserts as he snuggles closer to Slav, pressing against his torso.  He can feel one of Slav’s nervous, hesitant hands trace circles on his neck, another reach to stroke at his hair.  Shiro doesn’t let go of the first hand, holding it tight until Slav finally relaxes into his touch.

“It is hard.”

“I’ll help you.”

“You are dealing with enough as it is.”  Slav’s body vibrates with his voice, and Shiro smiles against the sensation.  “If you take on yet another burden, there’s a thirty-three percent chance of you becoming too stressed to function, which can lead to about five hundred sixty-eight realities in which the entire universe is doomed.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re here to keep me in check.”  He hums.  “Stop worrying so much.”

Slav scoffs.

Shiro lets out a single whoop of laughter.  “Yeah, you’re right, sorry.”

“The probability is…high,” Slav starts, tentative and slow, “that this could become mutually beneficial.”  The hands on his neck and in his hair make more rhythmic patterns across his body.

“That’s what I’ve been saying.”  Shiro begins his own patterns, drawing circles with his thumb atop Slav’s hand.

“Then perhaps I could try it,” Slav says.  Shiro gives his hand a squeeze, and Slav squeaks under the unexpected pressure.

“I’ll always be here for you,” he says, his voice firm, more sure of himself than he’s felt in a long time.  Slav nods and relaxes, letting his head fall onto Shiro’s shoulder as his hand motions become lazy and unrefined.

Shiro keeps Slav’s hand in his, the constant touch soothing him.

There’s another silence in the simulated night, but as Shiro thinks, he finds only one small, fuzzy alien on his mind.  And that makes all the difference.


End file.
